


A Grain of Truth

by JustAPassingGlance



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:56:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3250481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAPassingGlance/pseuds/JustAPassingGlance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine opened Rachel's e-mail which only said ‘For your reading enjoyment!!!’ with a link to a popular gossip blog. Snorting, he read the headline: Blaine Anderson and Hubby Buy Director Matt Marquis’ NY Penthouse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Grain of Truth

**Author's Note:**

> this work is very shamelessly based off Darren's "So apparently I bought a house...? Wow, looks nice! #Ain'tNobodyGotTimeFoThat" tweet from June of 2013.

Cup of coffee in hand, Blaine lazily scrolled through his e-mails. It was just after 10 and if it weren’t for the interview he was supposed to be preparing for he would still be asleep. The concert the night before had run late due to some mid-show technical difficulties and it wasn’t until nearly 4 that he and the rest of the band had stumbled back to the hotel: all of them realizing, not for the first time that year, that they were getting a little old for the touring lifestyle.

The forty minutes he spent with his phone every morning had become ritual. Another side effect of getting older was that leaving home for extended periods was getting harder and harder. When he was younger and the whole thing was newer he thought he could have spent the rest of his life on the road. Now the 9 months he had been gone seemed like eternity.

Seeing no new e-mails from his boyfriend (unsurprising since they had been talking as Blaine struggled to stay conscious while he waited for his updated schedule to be delivered) he next went to Rachel’s folder. God forbid he ever reply to anyone besides Sebastian before her. The last time he had (four years ago and it was to congratulate Santana on her pregnancy) he was forced to endure a twenty minute rant on his confused priorities.

The third one down had the subject line of  **!!!!!CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!(lol)**. With that many exclamation points he was honestly surprised it hadn’t been sent to spam. Opening it he found a single line which read ‘For your reading enjoyment!!!’ with a link to a popular gossip blog.

With some trepidation as to what scandal he was supposedly wrapped up in this time, he clicked the link and snorted at the headline.

**Blaine Anderson and Hubby Buy Director Matt Marquis’ NY Penthouse.**

Not even bothering to read the rest he rolled his eyes as he replied to her before opening his twitter, where he had already received several hundred tweets congratulating him on his new home.

**I guess my BOYFRIEND and I bought a new house this weekend. Thanks for telling me @VeryGoldStarBerry #Goodtobeinformed.**

To be honest, Blaine wouldn’t have minded buying a new home. It wasn’t that he didn’t like where they were living. It was a gorgeous place located on the outskirts of LA. It had been a ‘real estate investment’ purchased by Mr. Smythe in a moment of whimsy to be forgotten about after a week and only remembered again after Sebastian was accepted into UCLA.

When Blaine moved out to pursue a music career after finishing college Sebastian offered him a place to stay, temporarily, so Blaine wouldn’t have to spend a month crashing on his brother’s couch. After a month and a half most of Blaine’s stuff had managed to become unpacked and the first bedroom on the left was always referred to as his, at least until they had started dating seven months later in which case the master become theirs.  

Maybe it was the fact that neither of their names were on the house’s deed or the cardboard box of unpacked pans that was still in the guest room’s closet, but somehow the place had never really felt like home.

“So I hear we’re moving,” he joked later that day, seconds after Sebastian’s face filled his iPad’s screen.

“That’s the word on the street,” Sebastian laughed. “Half the firm was in an uproar. Apparently my just up and moving to New York is not in my contract.”

“I told you, you should’ve read it closer when you signed it.” Sebastian had read it at least  15 times and made Blaine read it over twice before he had even considered putting his signature on it. “Besides,” he added, “you know I prefer Matt’s LA mansion to the penthouse.”

He and Matt had met when they were both starting out in the business when Matt was wrangled into directing Blaine’s first music video. Since then Matt had switched over to making Hollywood blockbusters but he and Blaine had remained good friends and Blaine and Sebastian had an open invite to both of his US houses as well as his vacation home in the Caribbean.

“I knew I was forgetting something,” Sebastian replied with a discouraged shake of his head, lips fighting against twitching up into a grin.

"Just make sure the movers are carefully with my Grammys," Blaine chastised teasingly. "You know how I feel about them."  
  
“Some days I feel like you love them more than you love me.” Sebastian smiled fondly back. No one in the world was prouder of all that Blaine had accomplished in the last couple of years than Sebastian. After his first nomination Blaine practically had to bribe him to stop doing interviews where he went on and on about how amazing his boyfriend was.  
  
They talked for another twenty minutes before Sebastian looked at his watch and realized he was running late to be early for a meeting.  
  
“Tell the family I said hello,” Sebastian said a little sadly. After they finished their last round of interviews they were headed off to spend three days in Paris where Sebastian’s grandmother was insistent that the band stay with her and all the cousins had been granted backstage passes.  
  
“I will,” he sighed. It would be weird staying with Sebastian’s family without him. He had met almost all of them several times and his grandmother always insisted they talk whenever she called but it would be his first time seeing them alone. And he already knew, as nice as having home cooked meals would be, the next few days would only make him miss his boyfriend more.  
  
“Two weeks more,” said Sebastian as though he could read his thoughts.  
  
“Hardly any time at all,” laughed Blaine sardonically.  
  
“Love you, killer.”  
  
“Love you too, Seb.”  
  
After they disconnected he gave himself another 5 minutes to mope. Going into it they had known the tour was going to be hard on them. It was 10 months of only seeing each other on the occasional weekend plus a two week break between the national and international portions and while Blaine was abroad they hadn’t seen each other at all. The next two weeks, he knew, were going to drag by tortuously slowly.

It was worth it though. He loved what he did; he loved performing and sharing his music with his legions of fans. Even on his worst days, when he was most homesick, it was impossible not to look out at the screaming crowds and feel humbled by them.

“Anderson!” A sharp voice yelled through his door.

“Coming!” He shouted back as he hurriedly stuffed his iPad away and shoved his feet into his shoes before rushing out the door.

* * *

There were two things that Blaine Anderson absolutely hated- when people didn’t say thank you after you held the door open for them and flying.

The latter, he knew, was entirely irrational. Flying was safe. Sure there were a few well documented incidents a year, but the fatality rates were nothing compared to, say, automobile accidents. (And god knows he had no problems with speeding along winding back roads in his boyfriend’s Lamborghini. Although he was very comfortable keeping that secret between him, God, his boyfriend, and that one police officer who graciously did not give him a speeding ticket that one time.)  
  
Tiny, speeding sports cars he could do. Hulking 787s filled with families he could not. And even worse were the little 10 person ones the band and their handlers were forced on when interviews and concerts were scheduled too close together.  
  
At least on the longer flights he was able to take something that would just knock him out for the entire flight.  
  
Which was why, an hour before departure he ducked into the bathroom and shook out two tablets into his hand. And, after a moment’s hesitation, added a third. It was a long flight and the prospect of finally going home after months away left him feeling more jittery than he ever had at the end of any finals week.  
  
Within twenty minutes of boarding the plane he was out cold.  
  
Retrospectively three pills might have been too many, although they certainly achieved their goal. He was pretty positive that he had at least managed to walk through the airport by himself, despite having no recollection of doing it.  
  
In his last clear memory he could still look out the window and see foreign soil. But suddenly he was groggily coming awake, wrapped up in a familiar blanket and with an even more familiar weight pressed against his back.  
  
“Se’astian?” He murmured, snuggling in closer and breathing his boyfriend’s scent.

“G’back t’sleep, idit,” Sebastian mumbled into Blaine’s curls as he contorted himself even closer to his boyfriend. “Some home-welc’ming.”

Chuckling sleepily, Blaine tried to convince his arms to inch up his boyfriend’s thigh. “We can still…” Uselessly, it dropped back by onto the mattress. “Tomorrow,” he promised. “All yours all day.”

Sebastian might have let out an appreciated snore or that could have just been part of Blaine’s dream.

The next time he woke up the bedside clock read 3:42 and Blaine really, really needed to pee. Still half asleep he rolled out of bed and shuffled his way across the room to the bathroom. Except the door he opened didn’t lead to a bathroom, it lead to a closet.

“Sebastian,” he hissed as he tried to figure out whether he had, in fact, actually gotten on the flight headed home or if that had all been a dream and he was still somewhere in Europe and had miscounted the number of shows he had left. “Sebastian,” he tried again a little louder.

“Wha’?” In the dimness of the room Blaine saw Sebastian’s limbs flailing as he groped around the bed before pulling himself into a sitting position. “Wha’ ‘s’t.?”

“Why is that a closet?” Blaine asked gesturing towards the door he had just opened. “Where _are_ we?”

“Surprise?” Sebastian said sheepishly. The word hung heavily between them for a very, very long moment.

“Surprise?” Blaine was torn between being very confused and even more unamused.

“Er, well…” Sebastian’s explanation trailed off and instead, by way of explanation, he reached over to the bedside table and switched the light on.

Blaine blinked, first at the brightness of the light and then at how unfamiliar the room was. The furniture he recognized: the bed they had been sleeping on for the last 3 and a half years, the dresser he had to move every time Sebastian’s glasses fell down behind it, the floor to ceiling bookshelves that were crammed to overflowing with an assortment of books and trinkets. But the room itself he had never seen. The windows were on the wrong side, the walls were a light crème, and it was at least double the size of the bedroom he was expecting to be in.

“Where am I?” He demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the dishevelled lump on the bed.

“Surprise?” Sebastian tried again, even more feebly this time.

“Sebastian Smythe, I am so angry with you right now.” It took him six strides to get to the next door, which he pulled open to reveal a hallway that he wasted no time in rushing down.

“Blaine!” Sebastian’s frantic voice called after him, shortly followed by the sounds of him tumbling out of bed and chasing after him. “Stop.” It was never much of an actual chase between the two of them, not when one of Sebastian’s steps equalled at least two of Blaine’s.

It also might‘ve had something to do with the fact that Blaine stopped dead at the top of the stairs.

“You did not,” he breathed incredulously, spinning around so quickly that Sebastian lunged forward to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist to keep him from toppling down the stairs and bloodily tumbling into the massive foyer at the bottom of them.

“Su-”

“SEBASTIAN SMYTHE!” Blaine barely resisted stamping his foot in frustration. While he normally had a high tolerance for Sebastian’s antics he found it somewhat lacking at the moment.

“You said—I told you,” Sebastian spluttered to defend himself. “How out of it were you?”

“What? When?” Blaine blinked in confusion.

“We were texting all day!”

“I was unconscious on a plane for most of the day!”

“Okay, slight exaggeration. Just-” He held up a finger before darting off back down the hall, leaving Blaine shaking his head in confusion in his wake. A minute later he was back, phone clutched in a white-knuckled grip as he frantically scrolled through his text messages. “Here,” he shoved the phone into Blaine’s hands.

With an aggravated sigh he read through about 30 messages in which Sebastian said he had something big to show Blaine but he thought maybe he should wait a day or two, at least until the jetlag wore off and Blaine adamantly assuring him he wanted to see it AS SOON as he got in. (He couldn’t help but wince at his overuse of caps locks and exclamation marks.)

“And you insisted once you landed. Although I probably should have been tipped off by the fact that I had to practically carry you and all your luggage to the car.”

“Probably.” Huffing in embarrassment he passed the phone back over. “So, do want to refresh my memory about my reaction yesterday?” He smiled abashedly and pressed himself into the inviting warmth of Sebastian’s chest.

“Never got one. You were completely out by the time we got here. You owe me for lugging your ass up all those stairs.”

“You owe me for the heart attack I just suffered. I say we’re about even.”

With a grin, Sebastian ducked his head down for a kiss. “M’mm,” he mumbled against Blaine’s lips. “I suppose.”

“So this is ours? Or is breaking and entering your new thing?”

“Ours. As soon as you sign the papers. If you want. Matt never officially put the house on the market. He knew how much you liked it and offered it to us first. If you—if  _we_  don’t want it, nothing’s binding and we can just walk away.”

“Are you kidding?  _This_ can be ours?” He laughed in delight. “Where do I sign?”

“Papers are downstairs. We can sign them in the morning.”

“You haven’t signed them yet?”

Sebastian looked offended. “Of course not. I wanted it to be something we did. Together.” 


End file.
